Monday Poem


every time a new intersection’s built
around me
it winds up bristling with cameras

omniscient light poles sprout
a cornucopia of lenses spills out

a thousand robot retinas
recording everyday ephemera

the little things we do in cars
we might not want the world to know about

all snagged, digitized
and set in a binary log
for some bureaucratic lout
to survey, to scrutinize

to better get to know
the fireflies in his jar

by Jim Culleny